


Coming Home

by Nigaki



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Set during epligoue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigaki/pseuds/Nigaki
Summary: John is coming home after two months of traveling through New Austin where he was finishing everything Arthur started.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whydoihavetoart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whydoihavetoart/gifts).



John sighed with exhaustion when he saw Blackwater in the distance. He was finally home. Two months of being on the road. He shook his head, not believing he traveled for so long. Even during his days in the gang he was never in a saddle for that long, they traveled a lot, but they stayed in one place a lot too. This trip was just constant riding and sleeping under the open sky, not even in hotels. Didn’t want to waste any money on a bed when he had a perfectly good bedroll to sleep on.

It was hard at times, nights on the desert weren’t the warmest or safest, a couple of times he found a snake curled up in his stuff and Buell whining nearby, almost dropping dead on the spot because of the danger being this close. Such a whiny baby.

Those snakes kept John fed at times because they visited his camps just as often as the coyotes that liked to steal his supplies, no matter how hard he hid them. Buell wasn’t scared of those but he didn’t think of warning John about them when he was sleeping either.

John smiled fondly, remembering one of those nights where he found Buell eating alongside a coyote who dragged dried meat from the saddlebag laying on the ground and in the process, it pulled out some carrots John kept stored for his mount.

He patted Buell on the neck affectionately and hurried him just a little. He wanted to go home already.

They approached Blackwater from the south, people were getting finished with their daily tasks and were coming home for the night. John envied them, he still had about an hour of travel before him. Hopefully he could reach his home before it would be dark.

He would go straight home but he had mail to receive so he stopped in front of the post office. He slid off the saddle with a grunt and massaged the small of his back that hurt terribly. His tights and ass hurt too from all the riding but it wouldn’t be appropriate to massage those places in public.

Sleeping for two months on the ground wasn’t the greatest idea he ever had, the whole trip was crazy, he should’ve taken a smaller one but he wanted to be done with old errands that Arthur started so many years ago. 

Arthur. He smiled at the thought of him and entered the post office. There were a couple of people inside, locals who just liked to sit around here. John tipped his hat at them and walked to the small window with the post office worker behind.

“Ah, Mr. Milton, long time no see,” the man greeted him, turning away from some journal he was writing in before he heard John coming. “Thought you died or something. Letters were coming to your address but you know how it is, sometimes it takes months before someone notify folks about a person passing away.”

“Not dead as you can see,” John respond and reached to his satchel, pulling out a paper with coordinates of some stupid dinosaur bones. “Just been traveling a lot, that’s all.”

“How far have you traveled?” the man asked with interest, leaning on the counter.

“New Austin, almost to the border to Mexico.” He thought of crossing it, he wanted to at least have a glimpse of Javier’s country but he was already so far away from home and he missed it terribly after over a month on the road. He turned back then and was riding toward Blackwater ever since. Maybe one day he would visit Mexico. “Can you send it for me?”

He slid the piece of paper to the man who put his glasses on, grabbed an envelope and put the letter inside.

“Sure thing, where to?” he asked with a dip pen hovering over the envelope.

“To Deborah McGuinness, up on Firewood Rise Homestead in New Hanover.”

The man wrote everything down, put a stamp on it and then placed the letter with others waiting to be sent.

“That would be one dollar,” he turned to John who gave him the money. “No letter for Gill’s Landing?”

“Ah, no, not anymore,” John answered sheepishly. “I don’t work with Mr. Gill anymore.”

“Sending those fish was always interesting,” the man chuckled. “Every time boys were here to pick the mail and deliver it, they were so surprised to see a fish among the mails.”

“I’m sure that was a sight,” John agreed. “Got any mail for me?” he asked, drumming his finger on the counter, anxious to go home already.

“Sure have.” The man turned and crouched near one of the shelves full of letters and packages. He picked some from the bottom and brought it to John. “We have a letter from Mrs. Adler.” Probably another bounty proposition. He would have to tell her next time he had no intention of doing it anymore. Too dangerous. “One from Mr. Gill.” The delayed payment most likely. Mr. Gill couldn’t really send any letters from the bottom of the river. Poor bastard. “And one from Ms. Hobbs.” What? Another hunting request? How many animals does this woman need?

“Thank you.” John took the letters and put them in Arthur’s satchel. Spacious little thing. “Have a good evening, sir.”

“You too, Mr. Milton.”

John left the post office and practically jumped on Buell who huffed in protest.

“We’re almost there, buddy,” he said and patted the horse on the neck before nickering at him. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Soon enough, John left Blackwater on a galloping Buell and was on his way home again. Home. God he missed that place, a soft bed, eating by the table, he missed walking with his feet bare, he missed the smell of his house, dangling his feet from the pier, missed homemade meals and drinking on the porch.

Never again, he thought to himself. No more long trips like that, just short ones, week long at most, but not two months. He was too old for such long trips anyway.

The road was empty up ahead at this hour, not many folks were out like him, most of them already at home and eating dinner made with their wives, hidden from the storm that was coming from the Grizzlies. John looked at the dark sky and at the same moment, a lightning stroke from the sky. A rumbling thunder could be heard only a couple of seconds later. He hoped the storm wouldn’t catch him before he could get home.

Lightnings started to strike more often, the sky turned dark and menacing, contrasting with a soft orange glow the setting sun was casting over the plains and trees in the distance.

John really wanted to go faster but he had to slow down to keep an eye on cougars that liked to hunt around here. He didn’t see any but those damn cats could hide if they wanted. Holding his rifle with one hand and reins with another, he looked around carefully. Buell was calm so he probably didn’t smell any danger, maybe cougars had hid from the storm as well.

Relaxing a little, John and his horse approached Beecher's Hope, still not bought by anyone, in terrible shape, with only a few bums leaving there in a little ruined shack. Shame, it could’ve been a good place for a ranch for someone who knew what they were doing. After passing the place, John spurred Buell into gallop again, eager to reach Tall Trees and arrive at home before the sun could set completely.

It was darker in the woods, only a couple of sun rays got through dense branches and shrubs growing around. The forest was quiet, not only humans were hiding from the storm, John couldn’t hear any chirps, squeaks or thumping of hurriedly running animals, only rustling of leaves moved by the wind and hove beats of his own horse. 

It was a little scary, but John knew this road, he could travel it even in complete darkness and he would still reach home. Still, he kept his rifle out, ready to shoot any lost animals on its way to its den or a Skinner.

Those were the most dangerous things that could happen to him there but if he got lucky, Skinners were hiding somewhere as well and would leave him alone. If not it wouldn’t be his first encounter with them. He could deal with them.

He got excited the closer he got to home. When he finally saw the surface of the lake shining with the last rays of the sun almost hidden behind mountains, a full smile appeared on John’s face and he made Buell go faster. The horse protested but did what John wanted from him and soon enough they made it to the cabin sitting right by Aurora Basin.

They run past it, a barking dog comes out from under the cabin and follows them, wagging his tail like crazy. Buell stopped a couple of feet further in the woods, near a small stable standing in the clearing.

“Here we are,” John announced and gladly left the saddle after days and days of sitting in it, happy he wouldn’t have to see it for weeks. The dog caught up to them and ran around upsetting Buell a little who started stomping nervously. John quickly made a decision to turn all the dog’s attention solely on himself and whistled at it. The dog ran straight at him and jumped at his chest, easily toppling him over. John laughed, already having his face full of dog’s tongue and his ribs crushed by the weight. “Glad to see you too, Pirate.”

He grabbed the dog's head and scratched him behind the ears. Pirate growled playfully and licked John’s face even harder. 

“Alright, enough!” John shouted and shoved the dog away. Pirate was still circling around and looking at him like he held the whole world. John scratched him one last time on the top of the head and returned to Buell waiting for someone to take care of him. “Good boy,” John said to the dog and all three of them entered the stable.

It was really small, just two stalls for two horses, enough space for the supplies for the winter, stored hay, wood for a fireplace and for a wagon standing in the far corner. John led Buell to his stall. The occupant of the other one, an elegant silver tailed buckskin gelding showed his head and nickered happily at John who brushed his nose.

“Hey, little fella,” he said to him and pulled some treats from Buell's saddle bag and gave it to him. “Hope you had your dinner already.”

The gelding shook his head and watched John as he unsaddled Buell, cleaned him and put him in his stall where a fresh water and hay were already waiting. The old horse happily started eating, ignoring everyone and everything from now on. John patted his rump gently, closed the stall and took care of cleaning after himself.

Pirate was sniffing everything while John put away brushes and saddles on their place on the wall. After cleaning everything, he picked up saddle bags, put out the lamp by the door and left with Pirate, walking towards the cabin.

The wind picked up when he was inside, John grabbed Arthur’s hat to keep it on his head and fastened his pace, it was really chilly already, he wanted to be inside in front of a warm fireplace.

Pirate stayed outside, he crawled under the cabin where he had his small corner with a warm blanket. He kept his head outside for the last pat from John who got to the door, smelling the cooked food already. With a smile, he entered the cabin.

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he said entering, putting saddlebags on the ground and the hat and satchel on the hanger by the door before he started taking off his jacket.

“I heard you.” John’s smile grew bigger when he looked at Arthur who looked back at him from his place by the stove where he was cooking dinner. “It’s hard not to hear you galloping like crazy. Or Pirate’s barking. Besides, you wrote you would be home today.”

“Anything could’ve happened on the road,” John noticed, taking off his boots and leaving them near Arthur’s own pair by the door before approaching him. He wrapped his arms around the older man's waist and placed his chin on his shoulder, kissing a stubbled cheek while he was so close. Arthur leaned back against him but didn’t stop cooking.

“How’s my boy doing?”

“I never know when you ask about me or that damn horse,” John admitted and nuzzled into Arthur’s check, hugging him closer. It was good to have him in his arms again, smell the familiar scent that was just pure Arthur.

Arthur turned his head towards him and squinted at him.

“Show some goddamn respect, boy.”

John chuckled. “He was doing fine but that was probably the last long trip for him. It was really hard sometimes.”

Buell was old, it was a miracle he survived such a long trip, he was doing really great but there were days when his joints were causing troubles so John walked on foot, leading Buell by the reins to give him a break from carrying John’s ass all the time.

“Mmm.” Arthur turned his head again but this time to place a soft kiss on John’s lips. “I hope that means you will stay longer too.”

“Of course,” John promised. “Two months was too goddamn long.”

“Amen to that.”

“I’m not leaving for that long again,” John kept promising and closed his eyes, holding Arthur a little tighter. “I missed you, sunshine.”

He dragged his nose on Arthur’s neck up to his ear and then to his cheek that he kissed again. How did he survive without that for two months?

Arthur put away his spatula and turned in John’s arms, returning his hug by wrapping his arms around John’s neck. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before Arthur made the first move and brought John to a long and slow kiss.

John sighed and returned the kiss eagerly, grasping Arthur’s shirt in his hands tight, trying to bring him as close as physically possible. Arthur’s hand was in his hair, keeping him in place in case he wanted to run away. John didn’t, he wanted to stay exactly here for the rest of his life, kissing Arthur, being wrapped around him.

There was nothing better for him out there.

“Missed you too, Johnny,” Arthur breathed when he parted their lips far too soon for John’s taste. Two months without those lips was a torture, he wanted to kiss them for the next two to make up for the lost time.

They rested their foreheads together and just stood there, savoring being in each other’s presence after being away for so long.

“I finished everything you started,” John whispered, feeling like speaking any louder would ruin the mood. “Now it’s time to stay here. With you.”

When John opened his eyes, Arthur was smiling lovingly at him.

“You better,” the older man warned, brushing his thumb on John’s old scars, long white and healed completely. John nuzzled into his hand until Arthur took it back and returned to cooking. John didn’t let go of him even for a second. 

“Smells nice.” He sniffed some more with his chin still propped on Arthur’s shoulder. “What’s for dinner?”

“A trout.”

“Been fishing again?” John asked with a fond smile. During his travel, he imagined Arthur fishing many times, the older man sitting on their little pier with a fishing rod and just waiting for something to catch, with Pirate laying by his legs protectively.

“Even gone hunting,” Arthur mentioned with pride in his voice. “Had myself a rabbit for breakfast.”

“I had a can of beans and peas.”

John could feel Arthur’s chest shaking with laughter. He smiled, glad to be able to hear this laugh again, not only in his dreams.

“You were never a brilliant hunter,” Arthur pointed out, flipping over a fish on the pan.

John huffed offended. “I’m okay.”

“Not okay enough to feed yourself during long travel,” he kept insisting with a teasing smile on his face. “I’m surprised you ain’t dead and they didn’t send me your dead body.”

“There are places called shops, Art, they sell food.”

It would be cheaper to just hunt but like Arthur said, he wasn’t the best and he didn’t want to waste time when he could just open a can and eat some beans while still in the saddle.

John was reliving those memories when he was suddenly hit on the hand with a very hot spatula. He shouted in pain and stared at Arthur while rubbing his hurt palm to sooth the pain.

“Don’t back talk to me, boy, or you won’t get any dinner,” Arthur threatened with his spatula.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

John watched him carefully, knowing already Arthur wouldn’t do that but he wanted to know who would give in first. Turned out it was him. He laughed softly and hugged Arthur tightly, swaying them to the side. 

“I really missed you,” he whispered, once again fearing that making his voice louder would ruin everything and he would wake up in his little camp somewhere in New Austin, alone.

“Missed you too.” Arthur brought the hand he hit to his lips and kissed it better. It worked and John purred happily. “Go wash before dinner and set up the table.”

“Why me? I’m tired after the trip,” he complained, but without a real fight behind his words.

“I’m not your goddamn maid, Marston, you want to eat, set the table,” Arthur growled at him and shoved him away with his elbow.

Chuckling, John rubbed at his ribs and went to the door that was facing the lake.

“I’ll be right back.”

John stepped outside and closed the door behind himself. It was already raining but the storm still was far away from them. Instead of taking one of the buckets with water they always had on the porch or going to the pump like he planned, he put out his hands from under the roof and waited till some water would fill them. He washed his palms first, then feet and then quickly scrubbed his face of the dust as well and returned inside, already missing the heat.

“It’s gonna rain pretty hard,” Arthur noticed when John closed the door again, keeping out the wind and rain. “It was windy all day.”

“Yeah, I saw the storm clouds over Strawberry.” John crouched near the fire place to get his hand dry. He could use a towel that was hanging on the hanger next to Arthur but he wanted to warm up his fingers. “Maybe we should take Pirate inside.”

“He’ll be alright,” Arthur assured, working around the little kitchen like it was his second nature. “The water won’t flood his home and if it did, I’m sure he would come scratching at the door. Besides, he’s a brave boy, I’m more worried about the horses.”

“Yeah, they’ll probably be restless the whole night,” John agreed and stood up to set the table. He stopped by Arthur to take out plates from the cabinet above the stove. “I’ll check on them later.”

John put everything on the table in time for dinner. Arthur put one fish on each plate, along with some potatoes with a melted butter and chopped and fried onion. John took one look at it and his mouth was flooded with saliva.

“You’re such a good house wife,” John joked when Arthur stopped putting food on his place. “I come home and dinner is waiting for me already.”

“I’m gonna hit you with that pan,” Arthur warned but it didn’t work the way he wanted. It couldn’t when he was smiling fondly at John while saying it. “Grab the whisky from under the bed, will you?”

“Yes, dear wife.”

John giggled when he got hit with the rag on his way to bed. It looked so tempting, he wanted to lay down, curl up under covers with Arthur and fall asleep to the drops of rains hitting the roof of their little home. But he was also hungry so rest had to wait a little longer. 

He pulled a chest from under the bed and opened it. It was full of many things that didn’t fit on shelves and other places in the cabin, including, to his surprise, letters he had sent to Arthur during these two months. Sentimental bastard. 

Their cabin was a little place but it was home they put a lot of effort into. After leaving the gang eight years ago, they worked on ranches for some time all over the country to save enough and afford the renovation on this place. Finally, over a year ago, they started everything with repairing the dropped porch outside and building a new pier. They repaired the roof that was leaking during strong rains, built the stable from scratch for their horses and a place for their dog that was also bought to warn them about Skinners.

The old stove that was already inside when they moved in needed to go and instead, they built a small cozy fireplace. They renovated the kitchen corner, bought a new stove, new furniture, including a bigger bed, a closet for their clothes, new table and chairs, repaired shelves and added a few more, cleaned the whole cabin, replaced the old windows and doors, adding some good locks to keep animals or robbers outside.

All of this took some time and even more money, they were broke when they finished but it was so worth it, they had home, just for the two of them. When John looked at it now, he felt proud of what they did and happiness because it was all they ever wanted for them. Just a home, a safe place to call their own and they got it after so many years.

“You okay there, darling?”

John shook his head and smiled apologetically at Arthur who was waiting at him by the table. Must’ve been taking that whisky longer than he thought.

“Yeah, sorry, just thinking,” he explained himself.

John put the chest back under the bed and joined Arthur at the table. He poured whisky into two glasses and put the bottle on the table for later refill. They grabbed their glasses and held them high.

“To your safe return,” Arthur said, looking at John with so much adoration it made him blush. “May you never go away for that long again.”

“Never,” he promised again.

Their glasses clanged together and they swallowed the burning liquid. John refilled the glasses right away but they didn’t drink them, just started eating. He moaned around the first bite.

“You like it?” Arthur asked, very proud of himself.

“Best trout I ever ate,” he admitted and hurriedly took another bite.

Arthur chuckled and took a sip of his whisky. “Don’t rush it, you’ll get yourself sick.”

“After two months of eating canned food, dried meat and only sometimes something fresh you can’t just tell me to slow down around your delicious cooking now.”

Arthur blushed and bowed his head embarrassed. John wanted to kiss him senseless over the table but instead he just dragged his foot up Arthur’s calf under the table. The older man looked at him and smiled, returning the touch with his own bare feet.

They both dug into their food and didn’t talk for a few minutes to fill their stomachs. They just played with their feet under the table and smiled at each other every now and then. When their plates were half empty and they took a break to drink again, Arthur spoke up.

“Say something more about your travels,” he asked him, stirring the whisky in his glass. “You didn’t write a lot in your letters.”

John sent letters home every time he came across any post office. He wanted to talk to Arthur even if Arthur couldn’t talk to him because he wouldn’t even know where to send the letter back. He always talked about his adventures on the road, about helping people he met, killing some Del Lobos that tried to attack him a couple of times, about all the nature he saw, stuff he found, animals he hunted, places he visited. But he could only put so much in all those letters while also leaving some space to tell Arthur how much he missed him and how much he couldn’t wait to get back home to him.

So he talked now about all this, extending everything he wrote in letters. Arthur listened, sometimes getting worried, sometimes chuckling and sometimes letting out a full belly laugh, especially when he spoke about Jeremy Gill and his last great fishing.

“All this talking and he just died in the river.” Arthur shook his head amused. “Hope you took the picture.”

“I did, but didn’t stop to get it,” John informed him before stuffing his mouth with potatoes. Arthur was a really great cook. He learned a lot over the years, he had to if he didn’t want to eat canned beans for the rest of his life. John reached behind himself where the satchel was hanging. He took it and dug a little, pulling out a colorful spinner. “He left this before he went sleeping with fishes. Thought you may like that.”

Arthur took the spinner and watched it closely.

“Looks good, I’m going to try it tomorrow or sometime this week.” John grinned, glad that the other man enjoyed his gift. “What about those legendary animals? Had any trouble with them?”

“Not really, maybe with the couguar, it was hard to find.”

“They usually are.”

John searched the satchel again and pulled out a couple of bills of money. Arthur whistled and was impressed. “Got pretty money for them. Should last us a few weeks.”

“There is still some time till winter, can’t use them to stock up the pantry.”

“We’ll manage.” John reached over the table and took Arthur’s hand in his. “We always do.”

Arthur lifted his hand and kissed it again before releasing it. They went to eat again, the silence interrupted only by cracking of the fire and the storm outside. It was really raging already, he hoped the horses were okay.

After dinner, they cleaned the table together, rinsing plates in water they brought from outside where the bucket left for the rain was already overflown. They didn’t clean their glasses for whisky, instead they filled them again and sat down on the couch standing opposite to the bed, right under the window.

John was stretched on the whole length, with his legs on Arthur’s lap, who massaged them gently, working out all the tension that built in them during those two months, while at the same time going through his journal John took with him to write about his journey and to draw interesting places or animals. It looked horrible and Arthur didn’t hesitate to tell John that.

“I told you about this in one of the letters,” John said after fishing out a revolver from the saddle bag he dragged to the couch with them. He passed the gun to Arthur. “I think it belonged to Otis Miller.”

“Looks mighty fine,” Arthur admired and aimed the revolver at the wall in front of him. “We could get some money for it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Or we could keep it. Would look nice on the wall,” the older man suggested before giving the gun back to John. “We could tell how we killed the legend himself.”

“Everybody knows how Otis Miller died,” John noticed with a smile.

“Stories get mixed up all the time, some would believe.” Arthur put away his journal and returned to his previous task that made John almost sunk into the couch. Arthur had really skilled hands, not only for massaging feet. “You got mail for us? I was in the Blackwater three days ago, got only your last letter.”

“Yeah, I got the mail.” John pulled three envelopes he got at the post office. The one from Sadie and Ms. Hobbs he left for later, he wanted to see what he got from Gill. Just like he thought, it was a payment for one of the fish. “I still don’t understand why he couldn’t just catch those fish himself.”

“Because he wasn’t a good fisherman?” Arthur suggested. “The moment I met this guy I knew he was full of shit.”

“Yeah, thought so too. His technique was terrible and I’m not even that good.”

“Wish I could see that.”

“No you don’t, he was fishing for so long I actually fell asleep.” They both laughed at that. “I’m not gonna miss him but poor bastard.”

“Poor bastard,” Arthur confirmed and they drank together. “What’s the other two letters?”

John opened the one from Ms. Hobbs and read it out loud. It was an invitation.

“Didn’t think she would want to show us what she made,” John said, putting the letter away and picking up the one from Sadie. “We should come tho.”

“I’m staying here,” Arthur refused immediately. “I had enough travels, I leave it to the younger generation.”

“You’re not that old,” John cheered him up. Arthur didn’t even have any grey hairs on him yet and he hadn’t complained about tired bones or muscles. He was still in great shape and he could easily put many young gunslingers in their place.

But there was no denying it that Arthur was ten years older than him, they both were getting older with each day but it would be Arthur who would get silver first, it would be Arthur to get more wrinkles on his handsome face first, he would get tired first and most likely, he would be the first to die firm the old age, leaving John alone, just like he almost left him eight years ago when Micah almost killed him before John reached them and killed that bastard first, right when he was going to shoot Arthur dead.

All of this they had now almost remained a dream. But they made it here, they created a home together and no matter who would die first, John was glad for every year, every month, day, hour and every second of his life with Arthur.

Arthur patted him on the shin and smiled grateful. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome.” John opened the letter from Sadie. She was coming to visit next week. She didn’t mention anything about a bounty job but it was most likely about that. She knew they didn’t have any jobs, all their money were coming from what he and Arthur would hunt in Tall Trees or catch in Aurora Basin so she wanted to help them a little. They had money now after John returned but they could always use more, especially for winter which in Tall Trees could be rough. Bounty hunting paid well but it was also dangerous, they were both doing it with Sadie before they came to live here but after they got settled, only John was joining their friend.

Arthur didn’t like that, he didn’t want to do it himself, he said he was done with shooting if it wasn’t used to protect them. John didn’t have a problem with that, he was still young and he missed a good shootout. But it worried Arthur every time he was going with Sadie. Mrs. Adler was always talking about keeping John safe for him but Arthur was still worried, even during simple hunting near Blackwater.

John didn’t want to worry him anymore, they worried about each other ever since they became friends and even more when they became lovers, it was time to stop. Arthur only agreed to this two months' travel because John promised him he wouldn’t engage in any fights. And John kept his promise. Every time he had to fight for his life, it was because someone attacked him, not the other way around.

He knew only letters kept Arthur from being worried too much when he was gone, and even with them he was probably still worried between receiving each letter.

Enough is enough. John wasn’t interested in bounty hunting anymore anyway. It wasn’t fun when he thought about Arthur being alone in their home, not knowing if it wouldn’t be like that for the rest of his life.

John got his adventures, now it was time to settle in their little cabin and stay there till they both could turn old and grey.

“She’ll probably ask me to go hunting with her.”

“Mmm.” The mood was already down by the sole mention of John leaving again, even if for a couple of days. Arthur took his hands from John’s feet, now feeling awfully cold, and grabbed a glass of whisky, swallowing everything in one go. “Good money.”

They both knew it, without some of Sadie’s jobs, they would never be able to afford their cabin, being ranch hands didn’t pay that much but being bounty hunters did. But they were in no need for that anymore. They were settled for a year now and they were doing fine with the money from hunting. One elk would give them the same money as catching one outlaw, and elk was giving them not only money but also skin, antlers and meat.

There was no reason to risk their lives. Sure they risked it here too, they were on Skinner’s territory and there were bears and wolves in the forest, they could easily die on the hunt. But that’s why they had each other and Pirate, a strong and vicious little thing when it comes to protecting them. He already threw himself at a bear once and fought with wolves, seemingly not feeling any pain despite being bitten so much it left many scars. The wolf looked worse, Pirate had a very strong jaw for such a friendly and playful dog. The man who sold him to them was right, Pit Bull Terriers were perfect for living in the woods.

They were safe here, safer than at any bounty hunting Sadie was going all the time. John wasn’t going to risk his life for twenty dollars when he had everything he needed right there.

“I won’t be going with her.” Arthur looked up at him, clearly expecting something else. “We don’t need money that badly anymore and I just want to be here with you. If I go somewhere on a long journey, it would be with you.”

His words touched Arthur, John could see it in his glassy eyes and quivering lips. He shifted himself and sat closer to the older man, settling himself under his arm with his head on his chest. Arthur started playing with his hair, still long just like all those years ago, now even longer after avoiding barbers for two months.

Arthur kissed the top of his head and sighed, bringing him closer with his arm.

“Maybe we could go somewhere for a while,” he considered. “Take Pirate with us, he could keep up with horses, we wouldn’t be traveling far or fast anyway. Buell is too old for that. Me too.”

“You’re not old,” John chuckled, nuzzling into Arthur’s chest. “You just got lazy.”

He yelped when Arthur tagged at his hair.

“I traveled my whole life, I deserve to be lazy.”

“Yeah, I know.” John looked up at him. “But really, we should go visit people you knew back then. They were very happy to know you’re still alive, they all remember you. This photographer, the widow up north from Annesburg, a guy from Saint Denis, the one that tried to put you in a corset.”

Arthur laughed remembering that. “Still got the fancy hat from him.”

“And you look fine in it,” John purred, playing with the buttons of Arthur’s shirt. “Let’s go after winter, what do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Arthur admitted. “I missed travels to be honest.”

“You were born to be in the saddle,” he noticed, opening Arthur’s shirt a little to have a look at his hairy chest he loved to touch. “You retired too early, you still have more strength in you than some of the young kids that think they’re next Landon Ricketts just because they can shoot a barn door from twelve feet.”

Arthur let out a chuckle and stopped John’s hand when it was just slipping under his shirt.

“Wanna see how much strength I have left?” he asked seductively. John shivered hearing his low voice.

“I was hoping you would say that,” he admitted and moved to lay down flat on his back with Arthur hovering over him in an instant. They only looked at each other at first, already breathing heavily from the excitement alone. This time John started the kiss, bringing Arthur’s body down on himself, thriving when he could finally feel it’s weight again. “I missed this,” he gasped when they ended the kiss out of breath.

Arthur cooped his face with one hand and caressed the scars there.

“Me too,” he whispered and they attacked their mouth again, groaning from pain when their teeth clenched together. It didn’t matter, they were too hungry for each other after two months to care about little pain. Besides, they liked it rough from time to time.

This night, however, it was gentle, slow, and sweet. They explored their bodies again, rediscovering every spot that made them let the stuttering moan or tremble in each other’s arms. They talked sweet nonsense to one another, how much they missed or loved each other, promising themselves to never separate for that long ever again.

When they came, one shortly after another, John in his own hand, Arthur deep inside him, they said all of it again.

_ “I missed you.” _

_ “I love you.” _

_ “We’ll never be apart like that again.” _

They couldn’t just fall asleep after, no matter how much they didn’t want to get up but they had to clean and check on horses so after laying for a couple of minutes, enjoying the bliss left by their passion, they got up.

John took the towel they were smart enough to lay on the couch before anything more than some groping through clothes was happening, and used it to clean both of them but mostly himself between the legs where he could already feel Arthur’s seed leaking out of him.

It was cold outside but Arthur still went outside naked to retrieve another bucket with water so they could clean themselves better. It wasn’t the bath even when they warmed the water over the fire for a moment, but it was enough for now.

Not sweaty anymore, they put on clean clothes and with hats barely protecting them from the rain and wind, they went to see the horses with Pirate following them like always.

Buell and John’s American Standardbred Ennis were a little fidgety because of the storm but after a few pats, soft whispers and some treats, both horses fell asleep in their stalls and John and Arthur could go back to their own stall.

Pirate whined at them when they were about to go inside the cabin. One look at his sad eyes and both of their hearts melted. They let Pit Bull inside and dried him off before they let him anywhere near any furniture.

After closing the doors safely behind them, getting rid of their wet clothes and hanging them near the fireplace, Arthur and John finally found their way to their bed, with Arthur laying on his back and John snuggled under his arm with only covers keeping them warm because they were too lazy to put anything on. Pirate jumped on the bed after a couple of seconds, getting comfortable near their feet and falling asleep, curled in a ball.

“It’s good to be home,” John mumbled into Arthur’s neck, playing lazily with the hair of his chest where he rested his hand.

“It’s good to have you home,” Arthur said back, his tired voice rumbling in his chest. “The bed was so empty. No more travels.”

“Not without you,” John confirmed and yawned. He had a feeling he was going to sleep all the next day. He missed sleeping in his own bed. “Maybe only to visit Hobbs’ place left. Wanna see what she made of the pelts and feathers.”

“Probably some clothes,” Arthur sighed. John smiled, nuzzling even closer to him, happy to fall asleep in those arms again. He never wanted to sleep without them around him ever again.

“Love you, Art,” he whispered lovingly and kissed the hollow of the older man’s neck.

“Love you too, darling.” Arthur kissed his head and hugged him closer, no doubt glad to have his arms full of John again. “Now sleep, you must be tired after two months on the road.”

John nodded sleepily and closed his eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“Told you you’re a good house wife,” he teased Arthur again. “Taking care of your man like that.”

Arthur didn’t pinch him or anything for that name, he just trembled with laughter softly before settling again, caressing his hand on John’s arm.

“And I need my man with me,” he said quietly, surprising John with it. He wasn’t expecting to hear anything more from him. Those words warmed his heart to the point it felt like it was going to burst at any moment.

“You got me,” John swore, his throat choked up a little. “You got me forever.”

Arthur hummed happily. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

They fall asleep like that, holding each other close in their bed, in their little cabin, with their horses safe in the stable and their dog sleeping peacefully by their legs while the storm is raging outside.

But there was only safety, warmth and love in their home.


End file.
